


One over the Eight

by txorakeriak



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Flogging, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-25
Updated: 2006-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27604973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/txorakeriak/pseuds/txorakeriak
Summary: “You do realize that I could have you arrested immediately, Sparrow.”
Relationships: James Norrington/Jack Sparrow
Kudos: 1





	One over the Eight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt, "James being drunk for the first time". The bad thing is that I couldn't make this fic as cheerful as I wanted. The muses simply didn't agree.

Commodore James Norrington should have realized that if he wanted some peace and quiet after a hard day's work, entering the "Flying Horse" and ordering a pint of ale was not quite the right thing to do, especially when rumours were about that the notorious and highly irritating pirate Sparrow was in town again. 

Usually, Norrington didn't pay much attention to rumours when it came to wanted people, but in the case of Jack Sparrow, one had to be in a ceaseless state of watchfulness. When he was reported to have been sighted in Tortuga the day before, it didn't necessarily mean that he couldn't be in Port Royal today.

Which makes it all the more curious that despite the rumours and the apparent craving for some peace and quiet, Norrington did indeed enter the "Flying Horse", ordered a pint of ale that evening and couldn’t even be bothered to look surprised when his eyes spotted the pirate sitting in the corner opposite him. 

It was easy to find the other alternative to a surprised look. Annoyance was a sentiment that the pirate usually managed to evoke in him when there wasn't anything more appropriate to feel, anyway.

And the pirate even had the gall to get up from his chair and walk across the room to Norrington’s table, flashing his usual complacent grin at the Navy man who knew of nothing he loathed more.

Before the pirate could open his mouth to set free another unnecessary flock of lies, Norrington thought it best to introduce some sense into Sparrow’s undoubtedly addled mind. “You do realize that I could have you arrested immediately, Sparrow.”

The pirate inhaled. 

Norrington couldn’t help looking smug. “No need to talk,” he said, before Sparrow could say anything. “I am aware of the fact that I merely addressed you by your last name (which I doubt is your real last name in any case), and I am also aware that you are about to correct me, but I do not see where I need to be corrected. I am by no means on friendly terms with you, so I have neither the right nor the wish to address you by your first name. You do not hold a commissioned captaincy or legal ownership of a vessel and therefore have no title, formal or informal. And I do not believe that – were you in the Navy – you would be anything but a sailor, so ‘ _Mr_ Sparrow’ would be too great a courtesy. If you are finished now, I would greatly appreciate it if you went back to your table and disturbed me no further.”

Sparrow frowned for an instant, but quickly regained his former composure. “Ah, but you missed one vital point here, _Commodore_ ,” he said with his habitual, drunken slur. “I don’t mind bein’ called ‘Sparrow’, for tha’s me name, an’ you reasoned so prettily why it isn’t Captain Sparrow or Mr Sparrow to you, which I accept – you have the right to command over your own table, o’course – but – an’ here’s the important part –“, he lifted a finger to stress his words, “since we’re all jes’ people lookin’ for drink an’ company here - an’ drinks o' high percentage an’ whores don’t discriminate – I do think that if you want to call me ‘Sparrow’ an’ nothing but that, you should at least stop spitting it out like a curse or the name of a disease. One might feel unappreciated.”

Norrington had by then adopted the facial expression of exquisite boredom. “Sparrow,” he said, stubbornly ignoring everything the pirate had put forward, “might I point out that if it weren’t for the annoyance of your presence here, I would in fact not have to call you anything – in what ever way? So as for your terms, I reject them utterly. Now if you would kindly remove yourself from my sight…”

Norrington gulped down the rest of his ale and made a face. If he didn’t know better, he would think that the pirate had just made it bitter out of pure spite. 

Unfortunately, the pirate did not appear to be leaving. Instead, he sat down on a chair next to Norrington and grinned at him. “Now why could we possibly be so grumpy?” he said, more to himself than to the commodore. “Too much paperwork, is there? You know, you really should go out to sea again. Nothing like a fresh breeze in your face… King and Country don’t seem to agree, do they? Or was it something else? Did you have a chat with that former fiancée of yours – what was her name again?” 

_You cannot possibly be expecting an answer to that, you bastard._ Norrington shot him an angry look, but he remained silent.

“There seems to be something wrong with your memory, Commodore,” Jack said after a while, “if you don’t even remember the name of the lass who said she’d marry you just to rescue that other fellow. But maybe you weren’t quite yourself then, accepting something like that even though you must have smelled the rat…”

_Yes, thank you, Sparrow, for rubbing it in. By God, I could throttle you right this instant._

“Or is there something the matter with your wig? It certainly doesn’t look as shiny as it looked when I last saw you. Did you not have it polished enough? I’d fire that careless lot, I really would…”

This was not happening. It simply could not be happening. Norrington closed his eyes, rubbed at his temples, and then opened his eyes again, hoping in vain that the nuisance of a pirate would be gone. 

Naturally, he wasn’t. And he was still speaking. “… or did you talk to the whelp – pardon me, Mr Turner – for too long? I can see how that can get on your nerves. He can’t match those pompous words of yours – must be unnerving to have to explain everything...” 

Norrington sighed deeply and gave the pirate his best glare. “Before you exhaust your head too much,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word, “and because I do not want to prevent justice to be done by horribly murdering you myself, I will now tell you that _we_ are so grumpy because _we_ want to be left alone and as even you can most clearly see, _we_ are not. Now if you would _please_ get lost…” The last sentence was almost a plea.

Sparrow looked hurt. “Really, mate, it’s not very nice to be like that to someone who’s just about to get you another pint of that ale here, now is it?” He snapped his fingers in the general direction of the barmaid and then turned back to Norrington. “An’ to that little threat of yours… I like to believe that a dead man is a dead man, an’ to the crows, it makes no difference if he died by the wrath of the Scourge or the wrath of what you call justice. They pick out his eyes an’ be done with it.”

Norrington crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back against the backrest of the chair. “Indeed. Nevertheless, I don’t want you to get me another pint of ale because I am in fact finished here, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t follow me.” He threw a couple of coins on the table and got up. 

Unfortunately for him, the barmaid had just arrived with the pint of ale Sparrow had ordered and when she learned that it was for Norrington, she refused to let him go while the pint was still full. 

With an exasperated sigh, Norrington sat back down again. He would not quarrel with that barmaid – no matter how much Sparrow had paid her to make such a fuss over one pint of ale. She was a friendly woman who served you well if you treated her well and who served you badly when you treated her badly. It was as simple as that, and Norrington did not want to ruin his reputation of a good customer. 

However, he didn’t miss the opportunity to glare at the pirate again, even though Sparrow seemed most unaffected by that. 

“I will then thank you for the pint of beer,” Norrington said reluctantly. He still believed that pirates should not be thanked for anything, as they did not do anybody any favours by their existence. 

“Let’s hope you didn’t just attempt to leave because you can’t hold your ale,” grinned Sparrow and winked mischievously. “But then again, it might be quite entertaining to see what’s under that façade, might it not?” 

“I can assure you that it might not,” said Norrington, swallowing. He couldn’t help the memories of his youth coming back to his mind, but he did his best to chase them away again.

Sparrow seemed to sense that. “Oh, really? Well, I assume you’ve already been in the cups, haven’t you? Wonderful!” He clapped his hands. “Tell me. When was the first time – and what happened?”

Norrington’s mouth became a thin line. “I don’t remember.” A white lie. Of course, he remembered. 

***

 _How young and innocent I was back then, on the_ Triton _, not knowing anything about the world and believing in the best in everyone. It was before I had actually met real pirates – before my image of the world had shattered to pieces._

_I should not have let Andrew or Theodore know how my parents brought me up, even though I am not ashamed of it. My grandfather used to drink himself into stupors even before I was born and he died of it when I was four years old. My mother and father therefore decided never to let a drop of alcohol into the house, not even on special occasions._

_Theodore laughed about it; Andrew gave me a pitiful look. “Not a drop? Not in your whole life?”_

_“No, but I don’t regret it,” I said. “I’m not interested in it.”_

_“Humbug,” said Andrew. “You’re a man of the sea now, James, and men of the sea must learn to hold their liquor.”_

_“We’ll teach you!” cried Theodore eagerly and left the midshipmen’s berth, only to return later with a beer supply that was extraordinary. Clearly more than was permitted one man._

_“I traded with Connor, Briggs and Blackmore,” he informed us, and that was when I knew that Theodore had illegally bought beer rations from other sailors, an offence that our quite strict captain would surely have punished, had anyone told him about it._

_I was thirteen years old that night, when I drank one over the eight in the hold of the _Triton_ while Theo and Andrew were ceaselessly encouraging me to drink more. I learned how it felt to forget everything around me, even the appalling smell of the bilge water and the rotting food. _

_I defiled my expensive uniform after this bacchanalia, when the alcohol began to take its effect, and without thinking, I took off my waistcoat, shirt and breeches, ran up on deck, scared the officer of the watch half to death and jumped into the sea. It seemed quite a good idea at the time, but only due to my good fortune - the one that now seems to have deserted me entirely - I did not obtain any injuries._

_The officer of the watch threw me a rope and eventually, I climbed it, my head dizzy from the drink and my stomach growling with nausea. Theo and Andrew did their best to make apologies for me, but they couldn't prevent my deserved punishment._

_I could tell Jack Sparrow the reason for the scars on my back, but I simply do not want to. We both have our ways to keep our public image, and whereas Sparrow's involves a lot of talk, mine simply means silence._

***

Sparrow did not, in fact, press the matter. 

He changed the subject even though he must have been curious. The discussion didn't necessarily improve by that, but when Norrington left the tavern three hours later, going back to his house while Sparrow swayed back to his ship, he felt strangely relaxed. 

Maybe he _would_ tell Jack Sparrow the story of his first bacchanalia one day, over two nice pints of ale, and demand to hear the story of the marks on the pirate's arm in return. 

He could tell a lie, he could tell the truth.

However, Norrington was certain that on the long run, he would only get away with lying about facts. When it came to human relationships, lies revealed more than they hid.

The game was on.

**Author's Note:**

> Sailors on the lower deck were allowed a gallon of beer a day - 8 pints. Anyone drinking more (by illegally buying someone else's beer ration) was 'one over the eight'. Today, it simply means 'drunk'.


End file.
